Submission Nineteen

Hope ... "Time, quiet, it's inevitable, just give it some time, o, and a little bit of the blues. Embrace whatever is bogging you down and roll with it."


Even John Lee Hooker had bills to pay

Sometimes, on the second day back,
wherever home is, after a trip back east,
or west, forlorn tall legs eking their way
through Labrador grass. It is moonlight,
in this town, the sunglasses our neighborhood
hoodlums hide behind spark, crack, and burst,
sending dark shards back into our favorite hiding
place. I suppose the expectancy, no, the collapsing,
shivering sideways hope must always meet terribly,
terrifically with the glass in the window
which will never unlock. The quickening salamanders,
the berry bushes suddenly spring to life,
but we can hardly wait for August,
September, October, November,
December, redone, touched up
like an old painting
someone’s mother has forgotten in the attic,
All these years.

And in a tiny flurry of light,
As if a giant had breathed forcefully
On an old dusty bookshelf,
We are reminded of distinction,
Of the distinction, the difference
Between halfway sound
And eternal breath.

The mollusks snap right off the ships,
We wish you were here, the dog
Starts barking at just the right time.

Written and Submitted by Omar Tanamly